Moel's Story
by BBHGAL05
Summary: The side story mentioned throughout 'Sighs' about farm boy Moel (OC) and his little sister Gwen. It probably should be read with sighs but makes sense on it's own!
1. Chapter 1

"Dorri is a planet that orbits the moon of Storfa which, in turn, orbits our sun Vol. This means Dorri should not be classified as a planet at all. To it's credit however it is roughly spherical and has a population of just under 10,000 people in total. This is because although it is dark for 6 earth months of the 18 month cycle, the soils are fertile enough to grow in all seasons, including the dark months. Dorri is a planet only because Dorri is a farm for other planets. I know all this crap because I live here." I looked to my childhood friend, Gwen expectantly.

"It's a touch… abrupt?" She said softly. "Remember the harvest festival is for families."

"I told them I refuse to play any part in their ritual crop worship! Why should I be doing this?"

At that Gwen looked a little guilty.

"Oh, I'm sorry Moel. I thought it would help you get into their good graces. That way you could go to Metropolis. I didn't realise you'd be this against it." I felt a pang of pain at her words.

I'd always dreamed of joining the science police in Metropolis, just as my parents had. Somehow my Aunt had pushed me unwillingly into agricultural school instead. After that I had tried every loop hole I could to get out of it. I had protested for days on end and no one had listened. Then I had an idea that would catch people's attention. I set a barn alight.

The fire had spread like nothing I'd ever seen and had nearly destroyed 7 people's fields before the Legion showed up. I was caught. Enough said. They'd turned me in and I'd been sentenced to live out the rest of my life on this miserable asteroid. Not a single ship would take me to Metropolis with the threat of the Legion over my head.

I sighed and pulled at my hair absentmindedly.

"I can't go to Metropolis while the legion is there, Gwen. They'd never let me. I'm a convicted arsonist and that's all they'd care to hear."

"But they may reconsider-"

"They can't Gwen. It's both the Legion and the Dorrians that are keeping me here."

"Moel! Where the hell are you Moel?" My aunt's loud voice screeched over at me.

I sighed again.

"That'll be fate beckoning me. I better not answer. This fate wants me to become a farmer." That made Gwen smile a bit.

"Go, you idiot, before you miss your crop worship!" I grimaced back at her.

"But I'd rather-"

"Go!" She said, still laughing lightly.

Ducking out of the door I made my way over to the nearby field where the festival was going to be held.

Two of the old farmers in the northern continent appeared behind me from around a corner.

"Moel? Can we speak to you for a second?" Mr Dayal asked.

I was immediately on guard. Mr Dayal had been the owner of the barn I'd torched seven years earlier and, although I was now approaching thirty, he still hadn't forgiven me for the livelihood he'd lost.

"What about?" I let my suspicion colour my tone.

"Just… festival stuff. That's all." I knew there wasn't anything wrong about his request but the pause had been too calculated. He was having fun with this.

"I'm sorry but I'm incredibly busy-"

The two men grabbed my upper arms roughly and dragged me, kicking and thrashing, back toward the nearby barns.

**If anyone's curious Moel's full name is Welsh for 'scabby/bare hill' which we thought would be perfect for an underappreciated farm boy. Read and review!**


	2. Chapter 2

It was dark when I awoke.

"Moel? Moel? Are you there, Moel?" Gwen's voice reached me through the haze.

"Here…" My voice was scratchy and my heard throbbed with a dull ache. "Here!" I tried again, louder this time.

"Moel! Oh Moel…" Her shadow appeared at the top of the hole. "Just wait a second, Moel. I'll get some rope." I heard her remover the heavy lock of a nearby barn and rummage around for a while, before a rope was thrown down to me. "I've tied it to a tree so it should be okay to climb up on."

Fighting back nausea and the beating in my head, I grabbed for the rope in the dark and attempted to haul myself up. It was difficult. The rope was damp from the sides of the hole and slicked out of my hands. I slipped as I felt the wall of earth give way a little under my foot. With renewed effort I held firmly to the rope and pulled myself up to the surface.

I felt her hands flit around me, touching my dirty, clammy face and calling my name.

Illuminated in the bright moonlight, the hole I had crawled from swam into focus. It was the cesspit in Dayal's farm. Anger flared in me and I forced myself to stand.

"Get off me!" I shouted, slapping her hand away. She whimpered and a frightened expression crossed her features. I sighed heavily.

"Look Gwen, I didn't mean to… I'd never hurt you, alright?" She nodded shakily and I wasn't so sure she believed me.

Bending down slowly, she reached to the ground near my feet. It my anger I'd broken the clasp on the bracelet she'd been wearing. It was a plain silver chain with just one green bead hanging from it which I recognised as a gift from her elder brother on Storfa.

"Damn I'm sorry, Gwen," I said picking it up and pulling her to her feet.

From there we stumbled down to my aunt's old abandoned farmhouse and up to the bathrooms. The house was old and its owner was older. The ancient old crone was now going to live permanently in a care home on Storfa so I'd inherited her 'estate'. When Gwen had first come to study the soil composition during a study trip, she'd asked to stay with me here.

I clapped on the bathroom lights and the harsh white light was cast over both of us. We were equally pale from the lack of light during the months when the sun was covered. My short rusty brown hair was stuck up in big black knots and mud and shit made brown splotches on my face and dull blue farmers clothes. Turning on the tap I dipped my head under and watched the grey brown slodge run down into the sink. There were systems in place to prevent blockages but I knew I'd still have to clean it out later.

"Are you still staying for the Dark?" I asked Gwen, attempting nonchalance.

"Of course I'll stay. I still have things… to study," She finished lamely.

It was the same every time. When the dark months came, when Dorri was hidden by both Storfa and it's moon, most people migrated to Storfa to wait it out, returning to their farms only when the light came again. I couldn't leave. I waited each year inside my aunt's old farmhouse for 6 months while the 'planet' was ravaged by cold and darkness.

Gwen however had family on Storfa that treasured her, yet for all the time she'd been with me, she'd never left once during the Dark, using some non-specific excuse about studying.

I heard her laugh and look round.

"Sorry," she said. "I just thought that brown is really your colour!" She continued to laugh as I looked at her sceptically. "It actually really brings out your eyes."

Turning to the mirror again, my green eyes watched me from an identical dirty face. Of course I wasn't the only one looking like a hover-train wreck. Gwen's long blonde hair had gotten frizzier and deep bags had set into her round face. Callouses decorated her little hands from handling the rope.

"Come here, Gwen," I said, holding my arms out to her.

She stepped forward and hugged me, mindless of the crap I was covered in. Though she was two years my senior, Gwen was the younger sister I'd never had.

**I'm so sorry Moel but I'm planning bad bad things for you. However it is for the sake of the story so forgive me! Read and Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for my recent lack of updates! Here is another chapter for you!**

"Finally climbed out of that hole did you?" Moel didn't see their faces, but their teeth flashed white in the dark.

"Hey we don't know whose farm this is. What if they're back already?" The second of his captors asked.

"Don't worry, everyone here knows what he did. He set our barns alight, our fields on fire. I got nothing from my crop that year. I had almost nothing to live off. He's a spoilt brat from Metropolis and if they have any good sense they'll leave him down there."

Guilt gnawed at him and he shut his eyes calmly. I'm sorry, he thought. I'm very sorry. It was their right to throw him into holes and cesspits. It was their right to do whatever they pleased to him. He'd almost killed them. No matter what Gwen said, that had to be punished. Who better to do it that the farmers he'd made starve?

He let them drag him down the mud track. He let them take his shoes. He let them take his shirt. He let them push him backwards into the damn hole. Moel found however that the gnawing sense of guilt stayed. They could take everything he owned and he would still be guilty. Why did he think otherwise? What did he expect?

When they pushed him he fell. A sharp pain in his back made him cry out, earning laughter from the silhouetted men at the mouth of the hole. They seemed so far away. Feeling around blindly, he noted that, though this was supposedly a cesspit, nothing but dry hardened mud lay at the bottom. Mud and… metal?

He tracked his hands back to the hard edge he'd fallen on. It was cold and smooth and definitely man-made. Using his fast numbing hands, he began to dig at the dirt surrounding it. Gwen wouldn't find him this time. He hadn't told her where he was heading.

A chill creeping up his spine, Moel tried to move faster. He would freeze to death if he stayed down there. His hands fumbled lamely in the dark and the newly exposed metal surface taunted him. Selfish as he was, he didn't want to die in a cesspit, cold and half clothed. But it was their right to make him. He ignored the negative thoughts floating through his head and made a more concentrated effort to dig.

He pulled the large crate free from the ground. He'd planned on using it to help him climb the dirt walls but it was in no way tall enough to give him the height he needed to reach the top. Instead he unhooked the lid and pried it open.

What?

The crate was filled with weapons. Guns mainly but other things as well, though he certainly wasn't going to chance firing them in the pit. He'd get buried alive if the walls fell in. There was nothing that would help him. Then he spotted what looked like a flare behind the guns. Maybe Gwen would see it? His eyes now adjusted to the dim light, he looked for the pull tab that would set it off.

Finding the cord that would light it he looked up toward the entrance.

Only to find himself eye to eye with a man dressed in black.

"Believe me, you do not want to do that."

**More Moel-y goodness for you ****J**** Sorry Gwen didn't make it into this chapter but she will later on. Sorry my recent chapters have been quite short, I almost gave up on this story but I've decided just to take it steady for a bit. As always, please read and review! I spend my life checking for reviews and messages so I'll probably reply ****J**


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